Anything But This
by I've Been a Labrat
Summary: Apparently the CIA can't afford plane tickets, so Charles and Erik are forced to drive cross country to fetch the new mutants. Both men agree it's terrible.
1. Vegas, Baby

Charles and Erik had found themselves in Las Vegas, at a rather nice hotel considering the scummy nature of the entire city. They were both trying to drink each other under the table, since Angel was finishing her last shift at the gentlemen's club and they had literally nothing better to do. Since two men couldn't quite get joke married at one of the ten minute chapels, and Erik had already been Bar Mitzvahed years ago-plus, Charles wasn't even religious in any way, Jewish or Christian or whatever. Neither man was seedy enough to go to a whorehouse, let alone buy sex, since they were grown adults and hopefully had more control over themselves than that. Charles wasn't eager to go spreading the Xavier name around any gambling venues, since he'd cringed at how that name was apparently already known to Vegas, and Erik didn't want to spend all his hard earned bounties on a bunch of stupid slot machines and poker tables.

That left drinking as their last Vegas-themed activity. Luckily, they had mini bars in each of the rooms they'd checked into, so they didn't have to be around other people in order to drink themselves flat on their asses.

Charles knocked back a shot of tequila in one swallow, nose burning and eyes watering as he smiled weakly. "Your turn," he gestured to Erik's own shot. "Dammit," he muttered upon seeing Erik merely give his trademark smirk after downing the shot, no signs of it burning at all. "You, sir, are… just…" Charles fumbled around, trying to recall what he'd meant to say. "Just… an arrogant… prick."

"I'm touched, Charles, I really am," Erik replied without missing a beat.

"Pfft," he scoffed, looking away and muttering incoherently to himself. "How can you… how can you… drink… so much?"

"I have an alcohol tolerance that would make my mother faint."

That sent Charles into a snickering fit, Erik tiredly flicking his eyes up to the ceiling. "You're exhausting. It's hard to imagine why Raven has stuck with you this long."

"I buy her shoes," Charles whispered loudly, earning a sigh from the metal bender. "I buy her lots and… lots of shoes!"

"Charles," Erik began, patting the Brit's arm patronizingly, "that isn't a whisper in any sense of the word." His lips quirked. "You're shitfaced."

"I'm not drunk!" He cried indignantly. "I just…" He tried to stand, but only succeeded in sliding out of his chair onto the carpet, where he laid giggling. "I just… have an inner ear infection."

"Right," Erik replied, pounding another shot without flinching.


	2. Try Not to Get it Everywhere

_Thank you, NotMarge, for leaving a review! And thank you charlie7694 for favoriting!_

* * *

Indiana was terrible, to put it simply. The only thing Charles could think of worth mentioning about the state was that it was home to the Indy 500. Which neither man could bring themselves to care about.

"A convict in Indiana, Charles? You couldn't have chosen someone who lived on a beach?"

"You don't go shirtless, my friend."

"I still swim."

Charles leaned his head against the window. "Suck it up, Erik."

"You've been very sunny this past hour."

"I'm carsick."

"I told you not to read on curvy roads."

"Piss off," he replied, closing his eyes and letting out a small moan.

"Stare at the lines on the road and sit up."

"How is that supposed to help me?"

"Fine, stay nauseated. I'm not cleaning it up if you vomit everywhere."

Charles sighed and sat up straighter, turning his gaze to the faded yellow lines on the highway. "It's kind of fascinating to think about."

"What?" Erik had a feeling he was going to regret indulging Charles.

"Route Sixty-Six was only built less than forty years ago. It made it so much faster and easier to get to Angel than using other roads, and-"

"Yes, Charles. Very fascinating. Why don't you talk about books, instead, though? Far more fascinating."

"Oh, well, which books?"

"The Great Gatsby," Erik suggested, relieved when Charles set into that immediately. Anything was better than hearing him get excited about highways, of all things.


	3. Give Me a Break--A Prison Break

_Oh, goodness, I never expected to get so much feedback on this little fic, especially since it's so short each chapter. Still, I'm no less grateful, you guys are great! Thank you to Cassandra-Luna-Bellatrix-Snape, Lead Owl, charlie7694, and MelodramaticFruitCup for favoriting this story. Also thank you to NotMarge and TheAlabasterPhoenyx for leaving reviews!_

_TheAlabasterPhoenyx: You, madame (or sir), are positively lovely. I remember squealing when I received all the reviews on my fics that I did, and I adore hearing your feedback. Thank you so much, dear!_

* * *

"So you suits seriously don't care about what happened?"

"Right," Erik confirmed for what seemed to be the thousandth time, though deep down he understood the need for reassurance after incarceration. He shut the trunk now containing Alex Summers's bag, and they all climbed into the car.

"How would you feel about getting something real to eat, Mr. Summers?" Charles suggested, giving the boy a friendly smile.

"It's just Alex," he mumbled, looking down at the sneakers on his feet. "I wouldn't mind some real food."

"Excellent."

Erik and Charles couldn't resist casting discreet glances Alex's way as the boy hoovered his third cheeseburger, stuffing fries in his mouth between bites and slurping the last of his second milkshake.

_Poor chap must've been dying for real food_. Charles smiled when Alex looked up. "Feel better since you've had a good meal?"

Alex nodded, downing the rest of his coke and straightening. "So we're uh… going to Virginia?"

"Right. We'll stop overnight in Kentucky since it's already rather late as it is, and then finish the drive tomorrow."

"You're not just gonna leave me in Kentucky, are you?"

Erik resisted the urge to laugh at the look on Charles's face. Shock, horror, and despite his altruism, underneath all that was offense taken at the notion _Charles Xavier_ would leave someone abandoned in some random state. "Heavens, no! Believe me, Alex, we didn't get you out of prison as a joke. We really do need your help, and so long as you're willing to supply it, then we won't be leaving you anywhere. Even if you didn't want to help us," Charles added, "we still wouldn't have left you in prison in the first place. Not for something so unjust."

Resisting the urge to sigh, Erik let Charles and Alex talk, and wished Charles would stop with the crusading in the name of good. It was only making Erik more attached to the man, something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

Still… he couldn't deny being around someone so radiant in light felt refreshing, even if he resisted latching onto his new annoying English friend. Charles would be the death of him.


	4. Midnight Chess

_Goodness, the amount of reviews I received in such a short time really shocked me! I'm no less thankful, though, so thank you, guys! :) I'm updating early since I have no self-control, and I might as well since this chapter's already done.  
_

_Thank you very much to TheAlabasterPhoenyx, sirensbane, Aralas Baggins, missmarvelgirl, Ariel-Naraya-Marjana, NotMarge, Just me, and RedIsNotAColour for leaving reviews! I really am flattered that you all (are deluded enough) think I'm portraying this characters well. Particularly when the chapters are so skimpy in my view. I think it's sweet to get all this feedback and these compliments, so thank you very, very much._

_And as a side note to TheAlabasterPhoenyx, you know, it's funny, Charles has died several times in the comics, but though I might've missed something, I can't say I recall a time when Erik has actually died. De-aged into an infant and then made a young adult again, yes, but not straight death._

* * *

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Didn't know if you were awake."

"Clearly I am."

Charles sat up in his bed, looking across the room to Erik, who was lying completely still on his own bed. "CIA is a lot poorer than I thought."

"Evidently."

"Are you bothered that we have to share a room?"

"Mildly."

"My apologies."

Erik waved his hand, brushing off Charles's apology. "Sharing a room with you certainly isn't the worst I've had."

He winced a little at that, reminded of what exactly Erik considered the worst. "Are you up for a game of chess?"

Erik rolled over. "No."

Charles made a humming noise, considering his options and a little disappointed. "You sure?"

"Charles, go to bed."

"I'm already there."

Erik sighed. "Sleep. Go to sleep."

"I'm afraid that's the whole reason I wanted to know your status of consciousness."

Charles yelped when a pillow hit him in the face, and he blinked at Erik. "Goodness. Tired, my friend?"

"Take a guess, Sherlock."

"I'm sorry for keeping you awake."

"Little late regret, now," Erik grumbled as he sat up, sighing as he looked at Charles. "Chess?"

Charles beamed at him, happy to have companionship for his insomnia. Though, somewhere at the back of Charles's mind nagged at him that Erik wasn't going to get any sleep that night either. He threw back the covers, grabbing the chessboard from the floor and snatching up the pieces that had rolled off. However, he stopped when he saw exactly how Erik was dressed when he was meant to be sleeping.

"Er… Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Do you always sleep in a turtleneck under a shirt?"

Erik sat down on the foot of Charles's bed, casting a tired glare at him. "Are you going to keep asking questions, or set up the board?"

"Alright, goodness. If you didn't want to play, then you could just say so."

"If I didn't agree, you'd talk my ear off all night."

"... Touché."

Another something, also in the back of Charles's mind, muttered to him that Erik didn't normally sleep with a turtleneck still on him. He didn't ask any further questions on it, however, because as good of friends they'd ended up being, Charles knew he'd get his head ripped off if he continued prodding at Erik's personal life.


	5. Ah, the Foul Stench of New York

_I'm continually surprised how this teeny little story has gathered such a following, but, hey, I won't complain. Thank you very much to puffskien overlord of darkness, flyingcheese143, LuckyAsLockhart, LilyLunaEtheline, and Venetia5 for adding this to your favorites. Also thank you to sirensbane, missmarvelgirl, TheAlabasterPhoenyx, NotMarge, Lady, caligirlsd99, Ariel-Naraya-Marjana, Aralas Baggins, and Wolfofhiddenmoons for leaving reviews! I appreciate the support._

* * *

"Westchester is far nicer than this," Charles informed his friend as they walked along the sidewalks of the famed big apple.

_Big rotting apple,_ Erik mentally muttered, holding his breath to avoid the stench of the sewers.

"Well… not nicer in terms of people," he amended as he was shoved out of the way, Erik growling at the offense. While Charles wasn't his soulmate or a holy deity, he was still a good friend, and Erik wouldn't tolerate his friend being pushed around by a common moron.

"How would you know so much about this… Westchester place?"

The telepath next to him suddenly went quiet, and if Erik had learned anything from his time with Charles, he was always chattering on. Abrupt silence was troubling.

"Charles?" Erik prodded as they stopped at a crosswalk.

The man's face twitched, mouth seeming to start opening before he apparently decided against it. This went on until they were on the other side of the street, before Charles finally broke the deadlock in conversation. "I grew up there."

"Judging by how you took so incredibly long to answer, I'm assuming it's a sore point?"

The younger man nodded as they continued down the streets, finally stopping on the edge of a sidewalk. "I um…" Charles shook his head. "Never mind." Pressing two fingers to his temple, he smiled. "Could you be a dear and hail us that cab coming up right now?"

Erik did as requested, rolling his eyes a little as he opened the door for Charles and the man grinned cheekily at him.

"Where to, fellas?" The cab driver greeted, rather easygoing, all things considered.

"Richmond, Virginia, please," Erik replied steadily.

"Right, so you want the airport, the station, what?"

"No," Charles started, "We were rather hoping you would take us all the way."

Darwin furrowed his brow, trying to confirm it. "That's a six hour drive."

Erik smirked a little as he lifted a hand. "That will give us plenty of time to talk." Gesturing with two fingers to the right in a downward arc, the meter flag on the cab's dashboard flicking down to signal payment, despite the lack of currency exchange.

* * *

Looking away from the window, a flash of light gleaming on metal caught his eye and he snapped his gaze to Charles.

"Is… is that a flask?"

The telepath took a swig, tipping the flask toward his friend. "Want some?"

"Not with your spit on it."

Charles rolled his eyes. "My mouth is clean."

"Somehow I doubt that." Erik shook his head in exasperation with his perpetually drunken friend, watching the passing scenery out the window. Who knew how many people Charles had knelt down for? His mouth was likely more disgusting than a dog's, honestly.

The spitting noise and the splattering of alcohol was unexpected, as was the brief swerve of the vehicle after said alcohol hit the back of poor Darwin's head. Charles coughed into the crook of his arm, staring at Erik with a face that was decidedly filthy. He smirked past his coughing, eyes glinting with mischief.

_Fuck, he heard that, didn't he? … Fuck, he heard that too. Plebeian little shit._

Charles's bark of laughter had Erik's teeth grinding together in irritation. It wasn't the metal bender's fault. Charles just _breathed_ wrong, along with everything else he did wrong.

The fashion sense as of late needed an expert's help. He'd tried to persuade Charles into wearing a turtleneck, to which he'd wrinkled his nose and complained he was too short for it.

_Uncultured swine._


	6. Peacock

_Thank you very much to NotMarge, TheAlabasterPhoenyx, Ariel-Naraya-Marjana, Aralas Baggins, and Wolfofhiddenmoons for leaving reviews! I'm extremely flattered you all take such joy from my writing. I do this for myself, though of course I wouldn't be posting it if I didn't hope someone else would get a kick out of it, so thank you all for that._

* * *

_What is taking him so long?_

Erik sighed and leaned against the car at the gas station, folded his arms as he restrained himself from going into the restroom to drag Charles out by the ear.

The telepath had been in there for the last… Erik checked his watch, jolting when he saw it had been twenty minutes.

Why, exactly, had he given Charles that much time?

That was it. No more. He'd leave Charles's sorry ass at the gas station if he didn't appear in the next two minutes.

What if Charles had gotten into trouble, though? He seemed more the type to try to change his kidnapper's evil ways rather than attempt escape.

Erik really didn't desire to return to Langley with Charles missing or in a body bag. He was a strong man with a poker face, yet Raven had an inner viciousness he wasn't willing to test on himself. Were he to arrive at the CIA complex without her brother in tow, Raven would likely attempt murder, or, at the very least, cut him up badly.

Not a fate he really wanted to suffer. Death by insecure near-teenager wasn't the way he'd ever wished to go. Besides, he had too much still to accomplish before he could die.

The two minutes had passed. Charles still hadn't appeared.

Sighing, Erik braced himself to find Charles's blood smeared on the walls while a homeless guy dug through his wallet, and shouldered open the restroom door.

He was going to be the one digging through Charles's wallet. Stalking up behind the telepath, he glowered at him in the mirror, the younger man turning around.

"Ah, hello, my friend."

It took all his restraint to not bash Charles's head into the mirror. "Where have you been?"

"Here," Charles replied, raising an eyebrow. "What's the matter?"

"It's been over twenty minutes."

The telepath's eyes widened. "Goodness, has it? I lost track of time."

"Doing what?" He hissed irritably.

"I was making sure my hair was in order."

Despite Charles's pained protests, he dragged the staggering man out to the car, ignoring the looks of everyone around them and keeping a firm grip on Charles's ear. He wasn't going to kill him. He was just going to make him carsick. Very carsick.


	7. Stalkers at the Aquarium

_Thank you TheAlabasterPhoenyx, NotMarge, Ariel-Naraya-Marjana, Aralas Baggins, and Wolfofhiddenmoons for leaving reviews! I'm really quite flattered by you all, thank you! I try to draw a lot out of even the simplistic things without doing too much, and it's a hard balance to strike sometimes. Also, Charles is a disaster, but at least he's pretty._

* * *

"I'll never understand why they charge money to watch fish in a tank."

Charles chuckled as they walked inside. "I suppose because they have exotic fish here, as well as crabs, and starfish, and otters-"

"If you want to see those so badly, go to the ocean."

"My, you're grouchy today."

Erik nearly reached out and slapped Charles so hard he fell to the floor. Nearly. He had enough restraint to not do it, but the urge was strongly encouraging.

"Oh, come on, I said I was sorry about the gas station."

"You have a watch," Erik muttered.

"Well, what's done is done. Can't we have a nice time looking at all the fascinating sea creatures?"

"No."

The telepath rolled his eyes. "Fine, be that way. See if you can't find the boy we're after, and I'll see what there is to see."

Erik sighed and put his hands in his jacket pockets. He was good at acting casual without seeming like he was acting. Over a decade of doing as much tended to lend one plenty of experience and skill in these things.

Alright, so the sea urchins were nice at a glance. And perhaps more interesting when he moved closer.

The sharks were fascinating as well. They were clearly used to spectators, as they completely ignored him as they swam around in their dark tank.

The stingrays were, perhaps, the best of all. They'd grown so used to an audience that they swam forward in their shallow tank, the attendant informing him they liked to be pet.

No, he most certainly did not pet them. He was Erik Lehnsherr. Not a child.

Yes, he pretended he was Max Eisenhardt again, and pet one or two or three or several of the stupid stingrays which, for some completely ludicrous mystery reason, he wanted to pet for hours.

He blamed it on the memory of Anya. Surely, having been a father to a five year old would have made him a big softie for animals which slightly resembled her definition of "cute."

Erik eventually had to bid silent farewell to the stingrays. Someone else would come along and pet the things. They soundlessly protested his departure, but he ignored them in favor of finding his ditzy companion.

He found Charles watching the otters repeatedly climb up the rocks to slide down the waterfall slope behind the glass in their habitat.

"Having fun?"

Charles turned, chuckling. "I wish life were that simple for us." He jabbed his thumb at the water-loving animals. Standing up, he brushed off invisible dirt from his pants. "Did you find him?"

"I thought that was why you were a telepath."

He cast Erik a flat look. "Fine, come on, let's go get him."

They strode past the various gallon-amount tanks, the fish swimming steadily among the coral and rocks and past each other. They found the boy in question trying-and failing-to coolly sidle up to a blonde girl about his age viewing the clownfish.

"Crazy, huh?"

"What?"

Charles suddenly covered his mouth with both hands, bending over at the waist as his body shook with suppressed hysterical laughter.

"You like fish, I like fish too."

Erik leaned against the wall, covering his eyes with his arm as he snickered noiselessly.

"Maybe we should get a bite sometime… and talk about it."

"I'd rather go out with the fish."

Harsh. Oh, well. The boy would learn to up his game if he got rejected because of asinine lines about how he and another girl liked fish.

Raven's tales of Charles's flirting suddenly seemed less ridiculous, now he'd witnessed this mess of a child try to smooth talk a member of the opposite sex.

As the girl turned and walked away, the boy leaned forward and tapped his face to the glass, the fish suddenly swimming away in a flurry. "These fish?" Glancing back, the girl seemed disturbed, and quickly made her escape.

The boy shrugged as he faced the now deserted tank, nursing his wounded ego, and Charles and Erik padded up beside him.

"Uh… hey, fellas." The boy paused. "I'm not on drugs, I swear."

"If you wanted to avoid detection of a drug habit, Mr. Cassidy," Erik began softly, "You shouldn't have mentioned it at all."

"... Crap."

Charles snorted in amusement.


End file.
